#romantic academia

i aspire to be a well-read, creative, strong, independent woman who is secure in who she is and what she wants.

minimalist academia

dead poets society academia

all I need is a pile of books

Museo Nazionale Romano, Palazzo Altemps

i cannot even begin to emphasize how romantic signing off letters or postcards with “always yours” is. like… no one ever knows if they would be together forever. we love someone with the knowledge that they might not be in our lives in the future. we know we could fall apart. we still write “always yours”, because we mean to say, “hey, i know you might not be in my life forever, but you will have a part of me still. a part of me will be always yours to keep.” i need a moment

I found on Facebook

ever look at a piece of art and think of how a simple picture, painting, music, or book transcend time. For it to live through generations of generations, era after era, and yet, here it stays, alive and beating. as it captured the hearts of many before, now it beguiles us with the same intensity, even bringing us to tears, knowing that behind each stroke, note, and word is another person’s soul laid bare. gazing in the depths of the Art, we reconcile with the ghost of its creator, drifting and immortal. in a simple glimpse, we became a part of the undying

oh the inherent homoeroticism of blood-soaked bodies clinging to one another, the red honey dripping in excess, forming a path of ruin and murder. eyes seeking salvation, the other clouded with carnal affection. the head is thrown back, revealing the neck of smooth, Vestal skin, the knife in their hand’s dig deeper– harder. there exists no room for a fair hero and muse. in the consummation of the crime, lay the crimson limbs of a villain and their tortured lover

bookstore cafes are so PRETTY!!! literally how often do you find a place that has books AND coffee!!! and when it rains you feel like you’re in a movie. a literal win

when this pandemic is over. someone slowly stroll through bookstores and leaf through pages and pages of books with me

you’d think that as someone with gcses i’d be studying but all i do is listen to maude latour and drink coffee 

cafe mugging - an aesthetic:

staring blankly into space before scribbling feverishly, a badly neglected iced latte, tidy notes with calligraphed headers, sheets of grid paper, pastel highlighters, a lofi playlist, the soft, sweet scent of vanilla, fairy lights and neon signs, heavily annotated textbooks.

DAGGERS ARE FUCKING PRETTY!!!!! THROWING KNIVES ARE AMAZING!!!! SWORDS ARE SO SEXY!!!!! I WOULD LIKE A COLLECTION OF POCKETKNIVES ONE DAY AND WHAT ABOUT IT!!!! 

I need to stop looking at your eyes like they hold something for me.

unaiza n, as empty as my words

things i regret

not picking my mess up sooner/ not eating my breakfast/ my heart skipping a beat for you/ not listening to what my heart had to say/ working all day/ just to keep my mind from thinking about you/ breaking your heart/ still wishing to lean in your arms/ for you’re the only person/ who wouldn’t let me down/ loving you/ denying it/ your love for me/ mistaking it for nothing/ come home/ i need you.

- unaiza n, the list never ends. put it to an end, will you?

loving you was never pretty, it was a war zone. fighting to love you or to let you go.

- unaiza n,how did i think i’ll get out of this without bleeding?

and i’ve been trying to find excuses to kiss you at the places only the sun has touched.

- unaiza n, selling myself to stars just to spend more time with you.

something about you cutting me in so deep feels like home.

unaiza n, boy bye

i was the only thing you didn’t know how to do right.

unaiza n, you were never mine to begin with